Speak
by AliceRulesMyWorld
Summary: If you've ever seen the movie or read the book 'Speak' this is that. If not, Bella is an outcast who calls the cops at a party--not ON the party. No one knows the real reason, and she's certainly not telling...
1. I throw it away and start over

**I've seen people try this twice but they gave up so I am NOT attempting to steal a plot in progress, I promise!**

The best thing about being invisible and alone is no one finds out what really happened. The worst thing is that they judge you because they don't know what really happened. You suffer in silence. But it's easier. You'd rather be…hated than pitied, judged than having the truth known. Whatever way you choose sucks, so you just choose. No one tries to figure you out. I like it that way.

Then the new kids came, and they are determined to figure me out. They could be so popular. They are beautiful.

Lunch in the library again. I reach to a book shelf and pull out a random book and start to read. Pride and Prejudice is the title I pick. I have read this book so many times and yet it never gets old. I hear the library door open, something that _never_ happens. "I can't believe they're being so mean about her," the beautiful blonde says.

"I agree," Says the gorgeous guy with bronze hair, "there's more than what they know, I'm sure of it."

"Why do you say that?" The body builder asks him.

"The look in that Newton's eyes when they started talking about her was…off." I shudder, he is too observant for my own liking. These people might figure it out, something I have worked against. I hear the lunch bell ring and go to art. Art is the one class I like. We have a new assignment today, Mr. Syman informs us. "You will pick a subject out of the hate, and that's what you will do the rest of the semester." I pick tree (**That has a lot of depth in 'Speak' which is where this is coming from, so I'm using it here.) **"Mr. Syman, do I have to do a _tree_?" I ask him.

"Yes, Bella." I start on my tree, but it comes out looking like a kindergartners. I crumple it up and throw it away trying the 'Y' style I have seen. But the branches don't come out right. The barren look is messed up. I went wrong somewhere. I crumple it up and start over again. It's a good tree, but it is…incomplete. It is missing something. Kind of like me and lord knows I'm screwed up. I draw a new tree.


	2. The Beast

**I want to make clear that Bella has good grades in this story.**

The bronze-haired boy is in my biology class, which I have after art. "Hello," bronze-hair says. "I am Edward Cullen." So the Adonis has a name.

I look back at 'the beast' otherwise known as the teacher slash football coach. I pretend to be paying attention; I don't want to talk to Edward Cullen or anyone else for that matter.

"And you are?" I want to answer him, but I don't. I stay silent. It is as if I attempt to answer, but nothing comes out.

"Ms. Bella Swan." I look up but do not otherwise acknowledge 'the beast'

"Answer the question." I stay silent.

"Mr. Cullen?" The beast asks.

"Yes," Edward Cullen answers.

"Answer the question."

"Krebs Cycle."

"Very good."

I drift into my own thoughts. I don't want to remember that night, that stupid party. I want to forget, but my head simply won't let me. Mike Newton was so gorgeous and a junior soon to be senior. Why would he be interested in me? But miraculously, he was. I thought he was. "Come for a walk with me," he requested. I complied; it was nice to be noticed. But something starts happening and the next thing I knew I was alone and all I remembered is that I was…forced. I called the police, but I couldn't say anything. I couldn't speak. So they followed the call and broke up the party.

And I sometimes really wonder…I was…forced, right?

'No,' says a tiny voice in my head 'you didn't fight'

'I was scared' I answer myself

'But you still didn't fight'

'I couldn't' I say, encouraging this conversation I am having in my head

'You were' says another voice, the one that always comes in about here 'You didn't understand, but you were'

I wish these voices would get out of my head.

I wake up to fire alarms. Charlie is cooking. Starting Thanksgiving at 6:30 in the morning cannot be good for my health, which is not good already. I have gone down four sizes and it is not because I am dieting or exercising. Trust me.

"I'll order out." Charlie says.

I arrive to art early, mainly because it is my favorite class of the day. I sit down and try to sculpt my tree. I don't use clay. I use random objects, forks (**he he**) toothpicks, even the turkey bones that were thrown out when Charlie burnt it on Thanksgiving last weekend. I like it, but it's still not quite right.

I decide that I am not going to go to class anymore. I'm four weeks ahead anyway. I'll just get the assignments. I will pretend I'm home sick, perpetually. Instead, I hide out in the abandoned storage closet where my sculpture and Y tree are, and where I will put the rest.

Jessica is dating Mike Newton. Or perhaps I should say Jessique. That sounds more French. Jessica—Jessique—is my ex-best friend. She stopped talking to me with everyone else. Some best friend, yeah?

But I can't bring myself to care.


	3. Was I Stalin in a former life?

I often wonder why all of this happened to me. I don't drink, I don't smoke and I don't do drugs. So what the hell did _I _ever do to the universe?

Was I Stalin in a former life?

I bet I was.

I tell myself that I shouldn't hurt myself, that I should just throw the lighters away. The thing is I can't. And I hate to admit this, but I don't think I want to. _Figure it out, Charlie_ I want to scream. I want to tell him, I do, but… I can't…do that. I just can't. Am I embarrassed? They say that happens. Do I feel like it's my fault? They say that happens too. If I were capable of laughing I would. I sound like I shrink. In a…messed up way, it's hilarious

I am suddenly inspired for a tree. A frightened little girl hiding in the foliage, like I hide behind my trees. I set to work on it and it's perfect, but it's not right. I need to keep this one. I'm not sure what is wrong about it. The little girl is curled up on a branch. You can only see her face through the leaves, it is however, obvious that she's crying. I throw my aluminum foil tree to the ground in frustration. It's broken now.

Just like me.

**Short and filler-ish I know but I wanted to update for you guys…**

**I'm sorry.**

**Review anyway?**

**Please?**

**Pretty please?**


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